Enough Time, Part 1
by Alison Keating
Summary: While Robert tries to save a visiting dignitary & his wife--McCall's former lover--from assassination, Barbara is swept into a nightmare of her own. Her journey takes her to the breaking point. #4 in the Barbara Williams series. Part 2 will follow soon.
1. Chapter 1

**Enough Time, Part 1**

**Author's Note: This is the fourth story in the Barbara Williams Series. It takes place in April, 1995 and thus falls between "Unfinished Business" (1994) and "Return to Cyprus" (late 1995). **

**It is loosely based on the **_**Equalizer**_** episode "A Distant Thunder." The episode aired in the first season, so obviously the time has been moved forward. Michael Rosa and Carla and Viset Holden are characters in the episode, along with McCall, Kostmayer, Shepherd, and Control. Most of the plot is my own, as are the other characters.**

**Chapter One**

On that Friday afternoon, Barbara locked the door to her Portland house and walked down to the car parked in the steep driveway. Turning to look back one last time, she knew that she hadn't lived in this home long enough to have a lot of memories, good or bad. Still, when she had walked through the kitchen on her way out, one memory came through clearly: Company assassin Jeff Peters lying dead on the floor in a pool of blood. No trace of his blood remained, and the couple who were about to buy Barbara's house would probably never know she had almost been murdered in their kitchen.

After marrying Robert a year ago, she'd been undecided what to do about this place. She'd been renting it out, but a while ago she'd decided that she would let it go, realizing she'd been holding on to it because it represented the independent life she wasn't quite ready to give up. Selling it now meant she had forsaken that life once and for all. Her future was with Robert.

Barbara smiled as she thought about Robert. Their marriage was his idea; she had believed she was happy sharing her life with him without the formality of a wedding. In the end she had admitted to herself that she did want to be officially and forever committed to the man who was the love of her life. Not that marriage had been easy for her. In the last year she'd learned a lot about commitment and sharing. Thinking about Miami, she sighed, recalling her mishandling of that adventure. She certainly would never repeat that mistake. Of course, she laughed to herself, she would probably soon make another.

Despite the finality of the house sale, a lot of loose ends remained. Like most Manhattan apartments, Robert's…. No, she admonished herself; it was THEIRS, not Robert's. THEIR apartment wasn't very big, so most of her possessions were in storage. At some point she'd have to sort them out and decide what she could take to New York. She didn't see how she could blend her things with his, but they would work something out.

She drove the few miles from the West Hills to downtown, parked, and spent the afternoon wandering around Portland, getting wet, but enjoying the ambiance of the quirky Rose City. Short as her residence here had been, she'd liked living in this part of the world. During a downpour, she ducked into Coffee Time, and over some good, strong Pacific Northwest java she reflected on Wednesday's phone conversation with Robert. He'd explained that Michael Rosa had appeared out of nowhere and asked his help to save Robert's old flame, Carla, and her husband, Viset Holden, from assassination. Michael said he had been hired to kill them, but because he, too, had loved Carla, Michael actually wanted to save Carla from the inevitable backup assassin. To do that, he claimed, he needed Robert's help.

The more she mulled it over, the less Barbara liked it. She had worked with Rosa several times, and she appreciated his well-honed skills, but on a personal level, he gave her the creeps. However, Robert felt he had to help Carla, and there was no way Barbara could tell him not to do it, especially from three thousand miles away. She'd just have to trust that he was doing the right thing.

At 5:00, she met the buyers at the escrow office and finalized the sale. The Kleins were a nice couple with two children who would certainly fit into the West Hills neighborhood better than she had. There was little likelihood of an assassination attempt in the house when they lived there, she imagined.

It was 6:30 by the time the signing was over. After dinner at her favorite Portland restaurant, Jake's, she returned to the hotel. When she called home, the answering machine picked up, even though it was already late on the East Coast. Knowing that she should have no reason to worry didn't keep her from doing it. Oh, well, now that she had someone to worry about, why not, she told herself nervously. She left a message telling him that she'd take a taxi home from the airport the next day.

At 10:00, the phone rang.

"Hello, Barbara?"

"Robert, I'm glad you called."

"Everything's fine, don't worry. I had some business with Michael to take care of this evening." After a pause, he went on, his annoyance clear: "I talked to Carla about Viset. I think the damned fool wants to be a martyr."

"He's a man with a cause, Robert. You can't save him if he doesn't want to be saved." She then asked: "Do you think Carla will convince him to leave?"

"I don't know. I only talked to her for a few minutes. I tried to reason with her, but I don't know."

Barbara wanted to ask what it was like to see his ex-lover for the first time in many years, but of course she couldn't. In fact, she was trying not to get involved in any part of this job. She even hoped that Michael didn't realize she and Robert were married. If he knew, Michael might tell Robert about the mission she and Michael had shared in Vienna in 1982. She hadn't told Robert about that yet, and she didn't want Michael to be the one to do it. Was it time to tell her husband about Vienna? OK, yes, when she got home, she promised. Or maybe not. After all, there was plenty of time.

"Did you get my message, about tomorrow?"

"I'm sorry, yes. That's why I called. I hate to make you take a taxi, but…."

"I know. You don't have any idea where you'll be. A taxi is fine. What ARE you going to do tomorrow?"

"Why don't I tell you when you get home?"

"Sounds good. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, my darling," he said in that special tone he reserved for her.

"Good night, Robert. I love you." She said it far less than he did, for he was the romantic one. She was determined to say it more.

"I love you too, Barbara."

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, places, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from these stories. No copyright infringement is intended.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Barbara arrived at JFK, late of course, at 4:00. It took forever to get back to the apartment. As she walked through the door she realized how much she had missed him in the four days she'd been gone. Even though he was not there, his presence enveloped her, filling her with happiness. She wished they could do something special tomorrow. Unfortunately, this business with Carla and Michael would probably not be over yet. Oh, well, she thought, they had the rest of their lives.

There was a note on the counter from Robert saying he hoped to be home by 8:00. Not likely, she supposed, but who knew? It might happen. Dropping her carry-on in the bedroom, she stepped into the bathroom and ran the water for a leisurely soak. As she was unpacking and waiting for the bath, she thought for the umpteenth time that the closets were simply not big enough. They both loved clothes and had a lot of them. Was it possible to get a larger apartment, she wondered? Or a house? They had the money, after all.

Later, lying in the bath, she fantasized about their beautiful house, where all their wonderful things, his and hers, would have their place. Just as she was picturing the gourmet kitchen, she heard the door open. Her heart jumped; you'd think she was a school girl and this was her first romance, she thought wryly. But she reveled in the feeling nonetheless. After a minute Robert was standing next to the tub.

"Robert, my dear, you made it home at, well, almost 8:00. I'm impressed," she teased him.

"I did make an effort," Robert answered with a smile.

"Thank you. I appreciate it. I am VERY happy to see you," she laughed. "I'll be right out. Or, if you don't mind getting wet, I could get out now." She stood up and put her arms around him. As usual, his body responded to seeing her like this; he had missed her, too. He ran his hands down her wet body, savoring her curves, and softly sketching the length of the scar next to her right breast. They shared a long, passionate kiss. Grabbing a towel, he put it around her back and started to dry her off.

"Do you want something to eat? Or should we just go to bed?" she asked mischievously, thoroughly enjoying his efforts.

"Let's see." He paused for dramatic effect. "I can wait. How about you?" he said, pulling her closer with the towel.

"Ummm, me too."

After making up for lost time, they were asleep in each other's arms when the phone rang about 2:00 AM. Instantly awake, Robert freed one hand and picked it up.

"McCall," he answered.

He listened, his brow furrowed. Barbara had sat up a bit and was listening, too.

"Now?"

Barbara didn't like the sound of this.

"Wait, please."

Robert turned to Barbara: "It's Carla. She says there's something very important she has to talk to me about. She wants me to come now."

Barbara thought it over. She certainly did not want her husband leaving in the middle of the night to meet his ex-lover. On the other hand, this ex-lover and her husband were in grave danger. She didn't know Carla, but she assumed that if Robert had loved her once, she must be a good person. Besides, she didn't want to sound like a jealous wife.

With an inward sigh, Barbara said: "Of course you have to go, Robert."

He looked at her intently, and then spoke into the phone: "Carla, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Once he hung up, he bent over and kissed Barbara, disentangled himself and got up. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know. Be careful." Barbara watched him dress and leave, worry niggling at the back of her mind. She still didn't like anything about this job.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, places, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from these stories. No copyright infringement is intended.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Barbara tried to go back to sleep, but she was still awake forty minutes later when there was a knock at the door. Who the hell was knocking at their door at, she looked at the clock, 2:45 in the morning, she wondered? She got up, threw on a robe, and went to the door. Looking through the peephole, she saw the sepulchral face of Michael Rosa. Oh, God, she thought, something's happened to Robert.

She quickly pushed back the bolt and opened the door.

"Michael, what…."

Barbara was stunned to see that Michael was holding a gun. He pointed it at her stomach and said: "Hello, Barbara. It's been a long time."

"Michael, why the gun? What are you doing?"

"What I'm doing is taking you," he snarled.

She still didn't understand.

"Taking me? What do you mean taking…?"

"Shut up, Barbara. You're coming with me."

"Michael, I am not going to just…," she insisted, starting to turn away.

Grabbing her right arm, the one the Colombian had almost dislocated a year ago, he twisted it behind her back and turned her until she was standing in front of him. The move caused her to wince in pain. She couldn't think of any way to get out of his grasp, so she didn't fight him. She'd have to wait until she had a better chance.

Holding the gun to her back, he shoved her out the door and then forced her into the elevator, across the building entrance hall, and through the front door. It was a chilly night, and nobody was on the street. Barefooted, Barbara kept stepping on things she'd rather not feel under her feet. As he pushed her to a car down the street, he twisted her arm so it hurt more and more.

"Michael, please, let my arm go, it hurts." In answer to that, he twisted it harder, and she gasped in pain. She just couldn't understand why Michael would do this. Although they'd never had a close relationship, she and Michael had always gotten along; at least she thought they had. She must have done something to him, but what?

"Barbara, you always talk too much. I told you to shut up." He drove the gun harder into her back. She decided not to talk any more.

Pushing her against the car, he commanded: "Turn around."

After turning, she was standing by the trunk with her back to the car. Keeping the gun on her, he opened the back door and ordered her to pull up her sleeve.

"What…?" He slapped her hard. Barbara, she thought to herself, you do talk too much.

"You heard what I said, pull up your sleeve, damn it."

After she had done as he demanded, leaned against her so she couldn't get away, then reached in his pocket, took out a hypodermic needle, and stuck it in her arm. He was not very adept at injections, or maybe he was trying to hurt her. Again she yelped in pain.

"Get in the back seat."

By the time she got into the car, she was already feeing the sedative. That was the last thing she remembered.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, places, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from these stories. No copyright infringement is intended.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

When she woke up, she immediately felt the cold, especially in her hands and feet. The robe had fallen open and covered very little of her body, so she was practically naked. Her shoulder ached. Her wrists were tied to a pole behind her head, and the angle made her shoulder hurt. She tried to move so it would be more comfortable, but it was useless. As she moved, she could feel that her ankles were tied together.

Michael was not there.

Looking around in the semi-darkness, she could just make out that she was in a small room, empty except for a couple of wooden boxes. There was a little light coming through the high windows, and she could smell water. She guessed she was in an abandoned warehouse near the river. Wonderful, she thought. That's why he had not gagged her. She could scream as long as she wanted and nobody would hear.

God, she was cold, she thought. Her fingers and toes were getting numb, both from the cold and the tight ropes. Was he planning to leave her here, she wondered? Could he be holding her for ransom? No, he surely didn't need money; he was paid generously for his work. It had to be something else, she was certain. Even if she figured it out, though, it would do her no good. Instead she focused on getting out before he returned.

She moved her wrists and hands to find out if the rope or the knots were loose. No. Same with her feet. The ropes were too tight. Michael was a professional, and he had been very careful. Plus, unlike most of her opponents, he did not underestimate her. He had left her no way out. All she could do was wait.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, places, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from these stories. No copyright infringement is intended.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

When McCall returned to the apartment about 4:00 AM, he noticed straight away that something was different. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was definitely something out of place. Walking through the apartment to the bedroom, he was surprised that Barbara wasn't in bed.

"Barbara?" he called out. She wasn't in the bathroom; she wasn't in the kitchen, or the guest bedroom. He stopped in the kitchen and listened. Barbara was not there.

He didn't worry right away. She could just have…have…have what, he asked himself? When he'd left, she was lying in bed. Where would she go in the middle of the night? Barbara had left precipitously once, but not like this.

Apprehension crept its way into his mind. He had many enemies. For that matter, she had many enemies. Could someone have taken her, he asked himself? He went to the front door to look for signs of forced entry. There was nothing. If someone had taken her, she had let him in.

McCall was very successful helping people with their problems because when it came to his work, he shut out emotions. He had to approach this the same way, he knew. He compelled himself to focus.

If she had gone out for a "normal" reason, even at this time of night, there must be evidence. Her purse was lying on the table next to the front door. When he looked inside, he found her wallet. He opened the drawer where she kept her gun, holster, and magazines. They were all there. That settled it. She would not go out in the middle of the night in New York without her gun. She had not left of her own free will.

As he was about to punch in the number of the NYPD, the phone rang. He grabbed it.

"McCall," he said, hoping to hear Barbara's voice.

"Hello, Robert." It was Michael Rosa.

"Michael, what…?"

"You'll never find her." That was all he said.

"Michael? Michael?" McCall shouted into the phone, but Rosa had hung up.

My God, he thought, Michael had taken Barbara. It only took a second for McCall to understand that he had utterly misjudged Rosa. Michael was using Barbara to get revenge, and she was paying for McCall's stupidity.

As painful as this thought was, it didn't matter why Michael had done it. What mattered was finding her, he told himself. But how? Rosa had undoubtedly made sure there was no trail. She could be anywhere in New York City. She could already be dead. No, you cannot allow that thought, he ordered himself.

McCall looked at his watch. 4:30 AM. At 12:00 Holden had a scheduled appearance at St. John the Divine, where McCall and Rosa were to intercept the supposed backup assassin. Now it was clear to McCall that everything Michael had said was a lie. There never was a backup; Michael was planning to kill Carla and Holden all along. At 12:00, he would show up at the cathedral and try to carry out the assassination, McCall was positive.

After considering all the options, McCall determined that there was only one way to find Barbara. He had to intercept Rosa at the cathedral and force him to reveal where Barbara was. Walking aimlessly around the apartment, he turned the scenario over in his mind again and again. The task was almost impossible. How could he keep Michael Rosa from getting killed if he attacked the Holdens? There would be two security teams on the ground, one from the NYPD, and the other from the Secret Service. If he alerted them that Michael would be there and gunning for the Holdens, would that help Barbara? No, because the security teams' first priority was Carla and Viset, not Barbara. They would not agree to spare Rosa's life if it meant putting the Holdens in danger.

He would not tell anyone. It was up to him alone. Now he could do nothing but wait.

Unable to sit still, he wandered around the apartment. For the first time he recognized that despite her clothes and cosmetics and the food Barbara had bought, it was still mainly HIS home, with his books, his art on the walls, his furniture. Why had he never considered that she must want more of herself in what was now HER home, too? He could lose her, and once her clothes and her cosmetics were gone, it would be as if she had never lived here. The thought was intolerable.

He ended up standing at the window, watching light fill his street as the sun rose. It reminded him of a cathedral in France, Coutances in Normandy, that he had visited long ago. After a night mission, he had gone to the church seeking peace. While the sun rose and filled the soaring, magnificent space with light, he had understood why some people believed in God.

Did he believe in God? Did he believe in prayer? How many times had he tried to answer these questions? Oh, yes, of course he had studied the arguments. Pascal's wager had interested him the most. Why NOT believe in prayer, Pascal had posited; the potential benefits were huge and the potential harm nonexistent. Although it attracted him, McCall had found this approach dishonest until his daughter, Kathy, had been desperately ill. Then he was inexorably drawn to prayer, and he had prayed for his daughter's life. Kathy's death was for him a sign that prayers offered in spite of disbelief would not be answered.

Until today he had not prayed again. He still didn't know if he believed, but, hoping desperately that Pascal was right, Robert McCall prayed that Barbara Williams, his wife and the love of his life, would be saved. She was not innocent, as Kathy had been, but she was in this situation through no fault of her own. Envisioning the sparkling light of Coutances, he closed his eyes and prayed: Please, God, save her.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, places, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from these stories. No copyright infringement is intended.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Barbara heard Michael open the door. She didn't know how long it had been since he'd left; maybe an hour?

"Hello, Barbara," Michael began.

She said nothing.

"Ah, yes, I told you not to talk, didn't I? Good, you learned a lesson. You normally don't listen to anything anyone says, do you?" he said, contempt in his voice.

He sat down on a crate next to her and took a box out of a bag he was carrying. "You know, I always thought you were a pushy, arrogant bitch, but then that didn't really matter. We did our jobs together well, didn't we?" He opened the box and took out a hypodermic needle and a vial of liquid. He gazed at her, eyes narrowed.

"If you hadn't married McCall, our paths might never have crossed again. But here we are." He paused, looking at the needle, then back at her. "Barbara, what are you frightened of? You can tell me, it's OK."

Barbara didn't say anything. Why should she say anything, she thought?

"Come on, tell me. Is it snakes? Rats? Or maybe drowning? I myself am afraid of drowning." As he spoke he caressed the needle with his long, thin fingers, Barbara saw with a mixture of disgust and fear. The man is psycho, she told herself.

She still said nothing. Of course she was afraid of something, but she sure wasn't going to tell this bastard about it.

"Well, you don't have to tell me. As long as it's in your mind. It is in your mind, isn't it, Barbara? What you're afraid of?" he said triumphantly, his eyes glowing.

Damn him, she thought, he's right. She WAS thinking about it. His eyes scared her almost as much as the thought of the liquid in the syringe. But she was determined to reveal nothing.

"You see, this drug here," he said, as he slowly filled the needle and smiled crookedly, "it has a fascinating quality. It magnifies everything you fear. Say you are afraid of snakes; it makes your mind put you in a pit of snakes," he told her, savoring the moment. "I wonder what it is that you most fear, what you are thinking about right now. You want people to think you're tough, don't you? Barbara Williams, the perfect operative, the perfect soldier. But everybody has their secret fears. It would be interesting to see into your mind when you're feeling the effects of this drug." He looked her in the eye again and said malevolently: "To see you crawl." He caressed the hypodermic again. "Of course, I will be able to see part of it."

He bent over her, pulled the robe farther to the side and pushed the needle into her thigh. Barbara stifled a cry of pain.

"A brilliant man behind the Iron Curtain came up with this a few years ago, but his employers never got a chance to use it," he continued. "When the Curtain was no more, it came into the hands of the Agency. That's where I got it. My friend in the Agency was very generous with it." He laughed and said: "You can be proud, actually. You're one of the first to test it. You'll have to make a full report, if you get a chance. Unlikely, but who knows?"

He was looking down at her with curiosity, as if she were a specimen of some kind. He stroked her leg where he had injected her, making her skin crawl.

"I have some things to take care of. I'll be back to see how you're feeling, though." He smiled and walked back across the room and out the door.

At first, Barbara felt nothing. If they'd never tried it out, maybe it didn't really work as they believed? Was he even telling her the truth about it, she wondered? He had said that it magnified people's fears. Could she outwit it by not thinking about what she feared?

That didn't work. It was all quite different. She simply stopped being able to control her own mind. She couldn't tell whether she had her eyes open or shut; whether she was lying down or standing up; where she was. She was utterly confused, despite her best attempts to keep her mind clear. She was ripped away, she didn't know where.

Then, suddenly it was quite different again. She was no longer confused. Everything was very clear. Her eyes were open. She knew where she was. She didn't remember that she had been in a warehouse in New York today. In her new today, she was in her cell in Bautzen, and the door was opening. They were coming for her. This was now her reality. She had already been there for months, and she knew what would happen next.

They led her down the hall to the other room, the room where they hurt her. Three of them waited for her, as always, plus the Watcher. But it didn't happen as it had always had. Oh, yes, they made her strip and stand before them, naked. The first one hit her hard, and she fell to the ground. Kicking her until she turned to lie on her back, he stood above her, opened his trousers, and straddled her. He forced his penis into her mouth, thrusting it deep into her throat again and again, choking her, until he came; his semen made her gag. When the first one was finished, the second mounted her and raped her, consciously causing as much pain as possible, exactly as the Watcher had instructed.

All that she expected, for it had happened often in the last two months. She was waiting for the third man, steeling herself not to scream or cry out. But the end was not what she expected. After checking with the Watcher, the third one took out his pistol, forced it between her legs and up into her body. Then he pulled the trigger. She screamed and screamed until she couldn't scream anymore.

Barbara writhed in pain, trying to break free from the ropes binding her wrists and ankles, scraping the skin until it bled. Finally she opened her eyes and was back in a warehouse, and this was her reality again. Or was it? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that she was mortally afraid. She never wanted to go back to that place, ever again.

She was breathing erratically, and her heart was racing. She had no control over either of them. Sometimes she seemed to stop breathing all together, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She had thought her eyes were open, but when she heard the voice, she had to open them again.

"Barbara, how are you feeling?" Michael asked.

She couldn't speak. She couldn't understand what he was saying. But she did understand when he took out the box with the needle and the vial of liquid. Her life was reduced to that needle and that liquid. She thought she screamed at him: "No, not again, don't do it again. Please!" She didn't care if she was begging. She would do anything to keep it from happening again, anything.

"So, it was an interesting experience, it seems. Well, I have this extra vial, and I thought I'd see what difference one more injection makes. You're tough, aren't you? You can take it." he said, mocking her. "I'll watch for a bit. Then I'll have to leave you, Barbara, to meet up with Robert.

With that he filled the hypodermic and injected her with a second dose. Making himself comfortable on one of the wooden crates, he sat back to watch. He had another couple of hours until he had to go to the cathedral. Why not spend it watching McCall's beloved wife go insane, he asked himself with a laugh?

Barbara watched him inject her, and the fear made her heart race beyond anything she'd felt before. Reality shifted, much more quickly than the first time. Everything was beyond her control, as she was sucked her out of the murky warehouse and propelled back into the dark, dank prison cell, with the door opening and them coming for her. If it had been possible, she would have killed herself. But she couldn't even do that. They took her into the room again. They hurt her over and over. Instead of a gun, they used a broken bottle this time. She screamed and screamed until she could scream no more.

Michael watched in fascination as Barbara writhed and screamed. What sweet revenge on the man he had hated for all these years! He had complete control over McCall's woman. If he'd wanted her to die right now, he thought, he could give her a gun, and she'd shoot herself. But that wasn't part of his plan, so he simply waited to see if she'd be able to get back to reality again. If not, well, that was OK, too.

She did make it back, although this time she was even less sure if this was back or the other place was back. The man was still sitting there. Unlike the men in the other place, he was not hurting her, and she was relieved. Her heart was still racing, and she could hardly breathe; her wrists and ankles were bloody, and her body ached from trying to get free. But at least she wasn't in that other place.

Eventually the man looked at his watch and said: "It's time for me to go, Barbara. While you're enjoying your own private hell, I want you to remember that I am going to kill Robert. There will be no one to save you, or him."

He turned and walked away, leaving her tied to a pipe in an abandoned warehouse by the river. No one other than Rosa knew where she was. No one could hear her.

Time passed. How much time, Barbara did not know. All she knew was that she was still here. But her mind, her whole life, were out of her control. In a fleeting moment of lucidity, Barbara thought of Robert, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Yesterday that had seemed like a long time; now, it seemed like an instant that had already passed. Perhaps he could find her? He was very good at finding people. But how? Only Michael knew where she was, and he would never tell Robert. Even worse, would Michael kill Robert?

Her moment of consciousness was quickly sliding away. Barbara did not believe in God. If she had, she would have prayed desperately that she not be taken again. But she did not have that option; all she could do was hope, and it wasn't enough. She could feel it coming, and she could do nothing, because everything was beyond her control. She could not resist.

Sucked back, she was in her cell again, with the door opening and them coming for her. It was her reality. How could she survive it again? What would they do to her this time?

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, places, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from these stories. No copyright infringement is intended.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

For the rest of the morning, McCall waited, tormented by what he imagined Michael Rosa was doing to Barbara. The time passed insanely slowly, until it was finally time to leave. He arrived at the cathedral at 11:30. McCall scrutinized the crowd that had gathered. The contingent from the NYPD was clearly visible. He kept walking, back and forth. Where was he, McCall thought desperately? Fifteen minutes and no sign of the man. McCall had no idea how Rosa would be dressed; he hoped he could recognize him. Was he hiding at the back of the crowd? Behind one of the flags? Where was he??

From down the street came the police escort and the limo carrying Carla and Holden. Still no Michael. The escort stopped. The limo stopped. McCall scanned the steps, the sidewalk, back to the steps…. There! There he was, dressed as a priest. McCall drew his gun. Holden stepped out of the limo, followed by his wife. They stood next to each other and began climbing the steps. Michael took out his gun and aimed at Carla. Before he could get off a shot, McCall pulled the trigger, wounding Michael in his shooting arm. At first, Michael lowered his arm, as McCall had hoped, but then he raised it and pointed the gun at Carla again. This time shots came from all angles, and Michael fell to the ground.

"No, don't kill him!" McCall shouted, putting up his hand as he ran toward Michael. When he reached Rosa, he was lying on his face, two bullets in his back. McCall turned him over. He was alive, barely.

"Michael, where is she? WHERE IS SHE?" he shouted.

Michael looked at McCall, and a grotesque smile spread across his face.

"You'll never find her," he was just able to gasp. They were his last words.

Even though he knew Michael was dead, McCall took his jacket and shook hard, as if he could wake him. He shouted again: "WHERE IS SHE?" He could not accept that the man was gone.

"Robert, ROBERT!" NYPD Officer Alice Shepherd grabbed McCall by the shoulder. "He's dead, Robert, he's dead!"

McCall looked up at Alice. She was shocked at the look of pain on his face.

"For God's sake, Robert, what is it? What is going on?"

He stood up. He didn't hear what Alice said. He was thinking of Barbara, somewhere in this huge city. Was she still alive? He despaired. Michael had won. They would never find her.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, places, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from these stories. No copyright infringement is intended.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

When McCall told Alice about Barbara, she immediately initiated a city-wide search. She asked McCall for a picture she could release to all the TV stations. Although he knew that Barbara would not want her picture shown on TV, he didn't think it mattered, so he agreed. Alice followed him back to the apartment, and he retrieved one of her passports; he didn't have any other pictures of her.

Alice suggested he offer a reward. Why not, McCall thought?

After Alice left, he made himself a drink and sat on the sofa in the living room, staring ahead with hollow eyes. He figured he'd drink until he couldn't feel the emptiness anymore. Barbara had been missing for about twelve hours. Even if she was still alive, he did not believe they could find her. He kept repeating to himself that she could be anywhere in New York City.

McCall knew that he would never forgive himself for last night. What had Barbara really thought about his leaving their bed to meet a former lover? Surely she hadn't liked it, but she trusted him. Carla had wanted him to make love to her, as if nothing had changed in the last eleven years. For that she had asked him to come. But he would never have betrayed Barbara's trust like that.

The phone rang. McCall did not answer.

"Robert, I heard about Barbara," Control said onto the tape. "Pick up, Robert, I know you're there."

"I'm here," McCall said into the receiver.

"Is there any word?" Control and Barbara were enemies, but he cared about Robert. For his sake, he hoped Barbara would be found.

"No." McCall didn't want to talk to Control. Talking to Control felt like a betrayal of Barbara.

"Is there anything we can do?" By "we," he meant the Agency, his people.

"No." After a pause, McCall added: "Thank you."

"Do you want company?"

"No."

"If you do, call." Control hung up.

McCall poured himself another drink, walked to the window and looked out. The street was busy with people coming and going. McCall felt as if he had stepped out of their world; alone, he could only stare at others' lives. He had loved more than one woman in his life, but he was certain that Barbara was the last. What he would do without her, he did not know.

There was a knock at the door. He almost did not answer, but thought better of it. He checked the peephole, opened the door, and went back to refill his drink.

"Robert," Kostmayer asked, "is there any word?"

"No," McCall answered, avoiding his friend's eyes.

"Hell, Robert, why didn't you call me when she first went missing?" Kostmayer asked angrily. "She's my friend, too."

When McCall didn't answer, Kostmayer continued in the same tone: "What are we going to do? Shouldn't we be out searching?"

McCall took his drink and sat down on the sofa again.

After a long silence, he said in a flat voice: "What do you suggest, Mickey?" He still did not look at his friend.

"Geeze, Robert, I don't know," Kostmayer responded. "You must be able to think of something. When have you not been able to think of something?"

"Today, that's when," McCall said, annoyance seeping into his voice. "There's nothing I can do, Mickey. She could be anywhere in New York City. Blast it, he had enough time, she could be outside New York City. Let Alice and the police look for her. They've got the resources."

Kostmayer moved to where McCall was sitting and stared down at his friend. "Robert, you don't think they're going to find her, do you? You've given up!"

McCall got up, pushed by his friend, walked a few feet, then turned on his heel and shouted: "There isn't anything TO do, Mickey! There is not one clue, not once piece of evidence. NOTHING! I can't conjure her up out of thin air," he said in a strangled voice.

Kostmayer looked into McCall's eyes and saw naked despair. He didn't know how to express his feelings in words. Instead, he put his hand on McCall's shoulder and said: "Come on, Robert, don't give up hope. There's no reason to think she isn't alive."

McCall shook his head and turned away, going back to the window where he'd stood that morning. The light was disappearing; now all he saw was shadows.

The phone rang. Both men stared at it. McCall let the machine pick up.

"Robert, it's Alice. We found her."

McCall dropped his glass. They had found her.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, places, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from these stories. No copyright infringement is intended.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

At about 5:00, Chuck and Tony were standing outside the abandoned warehouse. They had planned to check this place to see if there was anything they could "salvage," their word for steal. Expecting the door to be locked, they had brought their tools, but the door was open.

They went in. The large space was almost empty.

"Damn," said Tony. "I thought for sure there would be something in here."

"Yeah, too bad," replied Chuck. "Hey, man, let's look around a little. Maybe we can still find something."

"Wait, Chuckie, did you hear that?" asked Tony. "Sounded like it came from over there." He pointed to a door on the left side of the space.

"I didn't hear anything. Wha…?" But then Chuck heard it, too. He didn't really know what it sounded like. "Hey, you're right."

They went over to the door. Now they could hear it clearly. There was definitely a noise in the other room. When they opened the door, they couldn't see much, but they heard Barbara. They found her quickly.

"Shit, Chuck, it's a woman. Man, she doesn't have any clothes on!"

Chuck punched Tony. "I can see that, dummy." When they got close enough to get a good look at her, Chuck turned excitedly to his friend. "Tony, I think it's that woman they been showing on TV. The one who got kidnapped? There's a reward, man. Wasn't there a phone booth at the other end of the pier? Go call 911. We just hit the jackpot!"

Barbara thought she was screaming, but actually she couldn't scream anymore. It was more like whimpering. She was screaming because of what was happening to her in Bautzen in 1985; she didn't know she was in a warehouse in New York in 1995. She hadn't heard the two men come in, nor did she see Chuck bending over her.

Chuck used his pocket knife to cut the ropes around her wrists and ankles. When he cut the rope around her wrists, he held her arms to let them down slowly. He figured that after all this time, they would be pretty sore. Although Barbara couldn't feel much in her arms and hands, she did feel this in the bad shoulder. It jolted her, but she couldn't tell the real pain from the pain she was imagining in her mind. She thought she opened her eyes, and then she saw a man leaning over her with a knife; she automatically recoiled.

Chuck realized she had seen the knife and put it away. "No, no, it's OK; I'm not going to hurt you." Chuck was sorry he had scared her. Her eyes were wide with fright, and she looked very cold. He wanted to wrap the robe around her, maybe give her his jacket, but he didn't want to scare her more.

"Here, you want to put my jacket on?"

As he laid the jacket over her, Barbara stared, not understanding what he was doing or saying. Again, her heart was pounding, and she kept forgetting to remind herself to breathe. That was all she could deal with. She closed her eyes, but quickly opened them because she didn't want to see the images her mind was producing. Her heart raced even faster.

"The paramedics will be here real soon. They'll take good care of you. You'll be all right, for sure. Just hang in there, yeah?"

Tony came back into the room.

"Called 911. Cops will be here in five minutes. I made sure to tell them our names, for the reward, you know. Man, she looks bad, don't she?"

Chuck punched him in the arm. Shut up, he told him silently. Why make her feel worse? They could hear a siren in the distance. Thank goodness, Chuck thought. He didn't know what to do to help her.

The police arrived first, followed soon after by the paramedics. Discovering that she had been injected several times, the medics assumed her agitation and disorientation came from a drug of unknown origin. They sedated her, started oxygen, and prepared her for transport to the hospital.

Barbara was oblivious to everything. Time and space shifted back and forth as her mind struggled to comprehend reality. In brief seconds of full consciousness she wondered if she'd ever again know what was real.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, places, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from these stories. No copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
